I don’t believe you’re evil. But I believe your smile is four girls holding hands by the candle light.

Your curls the length that guides the dark into the house. Laugh the incantation chanted in sing-song.

I believe your moles are the stars drawn upon the walls. I believe that you eat the misery of desperation, the refreshment of blood spilt over the floor.

Someone sees you. Practicing your spells on the innocents who grace your space.

One day, you’ll have to answer to someone for your summoning of immortality and the means you’ve gone about it.

One day, I’ll be the one holding a heart in my hand.